Start As You Mean to Go On

Inspirational song: We Belong (Pat Benatar)

Aw, crap. I had a long run. I went half a century without intentionally inviting a dog in my bed. The time that my mom's bed-hog dog Barbara crawled in bed with me didn't count. Technically I think I was in her bed. And that New Years holiday when Sheba slept under my covers didn't count either. There were fireworks going off all night and she was out of her mind with fear. I just didn't kick her out. But to make a conscious decision whether to invite a dog into my space, knowing it would become a forever thing? I have never done that before.

I have spent two and a half days bonding with Saoirse now. Some communication is getting easier, some is remaining difficult. She hates her cage, and expends a lot of energy telling me loudly how much she hates it. Today I needed to go run errands, and had the brilliant idea that I would take her to Petco for a name tag and a new crinkly toy (I've learned that's her favorite kind). She panicked the whole way there. Good thing there is a direct route most of the way there through low-traffic neighborhoods, so I could hold on to a freaked out pup with one hand and drive with the other. We bought a harness while there, to attach her to the seat belt, and even that turned into a Gordian knot experiment. It was a mess. She didn't calm down again until I pulled into the parking lot for curbside pickup at the pharmacy across town.

I have been struggling with the deep urge to pick this baby up every time I'm sitting down. My life-long no-furniture-dogs rule is fighting with this urge, and I'm stressed. I asked the Mr to help me talk through this, but I did most of the talking. It boiled down to a few things. I have clearly proclaimed that I want Saoirse to be my service dog, and thus fundamentally attached to my hip at all times. One of the benefits that service dogs offer is deep pressure therapy during bad moments--they lie on you during anxiety or pain crises, and become a weighted blanket that is nice to pet. In two days I've already devoted a lot of time to leaning over and pulling things out of her mouth, like phone charging cables, because she is bored on the floor and out of direct line of sight. And finally, I just freaking want to cuddle this big-pawed bunny. 

So guess where she is right now?

The Right One

Inspirational song: Just Between You and Me (April Wine)

We had a lovely getting-to-know-you kind of day.  There were a few attempts at training, but I have discovered early on that Saoirse is not a terribly food motivated puppy. And what's more, she doesn't exhibit the unextinguishable energy I expected. Girl sleeps a lot. A lot. And she really enjoys lying down even when she is awake. I assumed the Aussie Shepherd side of her ancestry would be dominant, and I would struggle to keep up with her. Instead, for the first day at least, she is all Pyr, more interested in snuggles than training. I am going on the record now as not holding this against her. If she doesn't have the drive to be a service dog, she may have the temperament to be an excellent therapy dog. We will go with her strengths rather than fight them.

She made quite a racket last night. It was her first try at crate training. She yipped for about half an hour before finally getting quiet. I stayed mostly silent, only occasionally interjecting an "I'm still here" into the gaps. I have learned through YouTube not to reinforce behavior like that with soothing. It teaches them that screaming wins calming praise. My gambit paid off. She slept until about 3:15, and when she started pacing around, I zipped her out for a pee in the front yard, and then back in the crate. She protested for about the same amount of time, and then slept on through morning.

Three cats are pretty chill with her, but Athena is still a jerk. I hope it doesn't take long for them to find a way to coexist. The older dogs are pretty interested in her. When we go to the side yard to train and eat grass, Murray watches every second. He gets really jealous when she goes through the gate. He's convinced she gets a truck ride that he wants. Elsa watches through the sliding glass door. I keep telling her she has to wait until she has the next set of shots before I let them play in the same space. I think I can keep them apart that long.

If it isn't obvious, I am enjoying Saoirse's company every bit as much as I thought I would. I'm pretty sure she is fond of me too.

Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch

Inspirational song: Me and Bobby McGee (Kris Kristofferson)

This was worth waiting for. I'm stretched out on my bed, sore and tired from driving 8 hours, round-trip, watching a puppy chew on an orange and black, grunting raccoon toy. She's lying below me on the flokati rug, and if her papa is any example, when she is an adult, her fur will look remarkably similar to that gray and white rug.

Saoirse is the most beautiful pup. The rest of the litter (or those remaining who I met) were lovely, but in my eyes, she was always the fairest of all. Something about the pale gray of her body fur and the charcoal of her ears just pierces my heart in the right way.

I had set up a half-crate in the way back of my car, complete with a blanket and toys. She stayed there until we reached the gate to the alpaca ranch, and then she whined and climbed over the seat into my daughter's lap (she was riding in the back so she could give the baby all the attention she needed). Saoirse yelped for the first ten or fifteen miles, and then gave up and snuggled my daughter for the rest of the four hour drive home.

I got to meet her parents, and wow, is her daddy a large boy. When he stood next to me, he leaned his head into my hip. He was as loving and beautiful as he could be, and I hope she grows up just like him (but maybe a few pounds smaller). Mama was nice too, but not as interested in me. I thanked her for making such lovely babies.

We have now met everyone in Smith Park. The cats are interested but not amused. The only one to be outwardly rude was Athena, and no one here is surprised that she has swatted already. I'm not letting her mix with the older dogs until her second set of shots, so we go around to the side yard where the woodpile is to pee. Murray watches her through the old remaining chain link fence, whining that he can't get closer. The cats keep getting a few feet away and just sniffing the air around her. I have hopes that she is enough of a baby that they will just fold her into the family now, before she is as big as all four cats combined (so... Easter?)

(that is a chew stick, not a poop)

Packed and Ready

Inspirational song: The Puppy Song (Harry Nilsson)

It feels wrong to be anticipating great joy on a night when millions of people are reeling from the loss of a giant of the judiciary. I note the passing of RBG, but for all that I admire the heck out of her, I have no original contributions to add to the national discussion. 

Instead, my head is filled with thoughts of dog (nod to the great Twitter account). I leave early tomorrow to drive to the southern part of the state, not far from the Great Sand Dunes national monument, to pick up Saoirse. Finally! I have waited a long time for her. Longer than you might realize, even. I grieved when Bump died, two and a half years ago. But then my heart healed, and I started having little bursts of hope that there will be another puppy in my life someday. As time went by, the desire for a puppy grew and grew, until the dream became an obsession. I tried to fight it, knowing we still had a house full. But as my mother said, "you'll know your dog when you see her." It was so true. I got one glimpse of a photo, and I knew in an instant that it was her, the one I was searching for.

I worry about being so sure from only photos and video, but I do believe she is the one. Tomorrow I will be with her and I expect to have my hopes confirmed. 

I have packed as if I were going away for the whole weekend. I have snacks and drinks for me and my daughter, plus a whole collection of things for Saoirse: toys, food, water, a collar, a leash, a carrier, and cleaning supplies. I hope she does well in the car. If not, it won't be for lack of preparation on my part.

Loose Ends

Inspirational song: Money (Pink Floyd)

The last few real estate documents have been submitted to my admin account. I dropped by the bank on my way to babysit, and deposited the commission check into my brokerage's account. I'm pretty sure I have tied up all loose ends. Once my boss gives it a once over, he will transfer my share to me. I don't know whether any of you have gone two whole years without an earned paycheck, but take it from me, it is not a fun feeling. Granted, I had quite a bit going on, and wasn't focused on money the whole time, but it came up often enough that I was miserable about my failure to contribute to the economic engine of this household. I am a long ways from the next similar lump of income, but at least now I have my sea legs back. I'm reasonably confident that more will eventually follow.

I took no photographs today. I was just too sore and tired from everything I attempted to do this week (and succeeded in much of it). Pictures were the last thing on my mind. I did share a video on the puppy's Twitter account. They built a cute little barn for chickens on the ranch, and off on one side of it, they put in a straw-lined nest for the puppies. They will get to be outside a lot now (and being half Great Pyrenees, they will be absolutely fine during all but the worst weather). The owner of the ranch was out in the puppy side of the barn, lounging in her jammies in the middle of a pile of sleeping dogs, under the red glow of a heat lamp. It looked like fun, and Saoirse was very attentive to her, getting all sorts of cuddles. I will make another pitch for anyone who wants to follow her to go to @helpersaoirse on Twitter. As of now, she does not have a Facebook or Instagram. She will appear on the Smith Park Facebook often enough she won't need one, and I just never took to Instagram. I haven't logged into my account there since I got my new phone a year ago. Don't even remember my password. I expect the Twitter account to be pretty active. 

Closed

Inspirational song: Our House (Madness)

Success! The last week of stress was no fun, but by the middle of the day, the uncertainty was over. Everything settled out, and the closing went off like a dream. The clients were ready to go, boxes loaded in their cars, and in short order, the new house started to fill with stuff. I left before actual furniture showed up, so I wasn't comfortable lazing around. Besides, I had a grandbaby to snuggle. I had her all the way past 8 this evening. Now my shoulders are sore and tired, from baby holding and from the tension that always comes from driving in Denver. My hips and legs are sore from trying to sit on the floor at the new house for the hour or so I was there. And I finished my evening sitting up at a dining room table, when I wanted to be reclined on my bed. Long day, over now. Time to pay myself on the back, say job well done, and get some sleep. Now that this deal is done, I need to prepare for the condo I'm about to list. I'm back in business.

Checkered Flag

Inspirational song: Thrift Shop (Macklemore & Ryan Lewis, ft. Wanz)

One day late, we are about to cross the finish line. In about twelve hours from the moment I write this, we should be settling down to sign loan and closing docs. Am I confident it will work from here? Yes. Do I think nothing else can go wrong? Not at all. There could be any number of stumbling blocks before keys are handed over. I don't want to think about them though. I just need to make myself turn out lights and go to sleep. I'm driving us in the morning to the title office in Denver.

Since closing was delayed, I went shopping to distract myself. I got my standard closing gift, plus a personalized present. Then I went to Marshall's, intending just to get a dog bed. Well, that went sideways. I was there two hours, waiting for my daughter and granddaughter to meet up with me after the elder of the two got off work. That gave me time to fill a cart. But what I found was so stinking cute, I had to do it. Now I just have to make sure closing happens so I actually get paid. Yikes.

Daughter wanted to look for something that was best bought at a thrift store, so I joined her on that trip. Found a set of chipped enameled coffee cups to send up the mountain to the cabin, and got to goof around with the baby while her mommy shopped. It's so hard to practice smiles with an infant when you're wearing a mask, but she is learning quickly to communicate with her eyes, like the rest of us. I wonder what her generation will remember of this time period, and how they will interact differently because of it.